Girls' Night Out: An Unwelcome Intrusion
by Lara Zed
Summary: Hermione was just planning on a night out with the girls; she hadn't counted on an encounter with the last person she wanted to see. First one-shot in a series of three.


Disclaimer: Not for profit, just for fun. All characters created by J. K. Rowling, etc.

A/N: This is the first one-shot in a series of three that all take place on the same night, in the same location. As they are all separate ships (and function as independent stories), they will each be posted separately. A massive thank you to my fantastic beta WeasleyForMe! Hope you like this story. Reviews are greatly appreciated.

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Girls' Night Out: An Unwelcome Intrusion

George Weasley sat at the bar, surveying the scene at the opening night of Lee Jordan's Alohomora Club and Lounge. He watched the throngs of witches and wizards on the dance floor, writhing and grinding against each other to the loud music, and was pleased for his friend that the club's first night was appearing to be rather successful.

His hand automatically clenched his glass of Firewhisky a bit tighter as he noticed one specific group of dancing girls. Taking a large swig, he focused his gaze on the brunette. Try as he might, he was unable to tear his eyes off her, as her hips wiggled in time with the beat. It was truly impossible for him to stop looking at her long curls cascading down her back, which was nearly bare, as her glittery top merely tied together in the back.

She tossed her head slightly, and, getting a glimpse of her face in profile, George suddenly made up his mind. Finishing his drink for courage, he made his way toward her.

Finally making his way through the crowd until he found his way behind her, he tapped her on the shoulder. She whipped around at the contact.

"Get you a drink?" he shouted, compensating for the volume of the music.

Hermione Granger's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?" she asked, annoyed and speaking at a shout.

"Nothing!" he answered. As she raised an eyebrow and put her hands on her hips, he continued. "The same thing as you! Just enjoying a night out."

"And what do you want, exactly? Why approach me and try to ruin _my_ night out?" she retorted.

"Just trying to buy a drink for a friend, that's all," he said.

"You gave up the chance to be called my friend, remember? Now, do you mind? I'm trying to enjoy my rare and well-deserved time off with my actual friends, who –" she turned around to gesture, and found herself now facing a wall of strangers. "Who seem to have disappeared in the crowd. Fantastic," she finished.

Knowing that this would only serve to irk her further, George made his best attempt to arrange his features into the most innocent expression possible.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed in irritation. "Well, in this mob, who knows when I'll find them again? Go on, might as well get me that drink," she said, gesturing in the direction of the bar.

"Right!" said George brightly.

"It doesn't mean anything, though. I'm simply allowing you to pay me back for getting me separated from my friends. Don't go getting any ideas," she said sternly.

"Right," said George again, less brightly this time, as he led their way to the bar.

George signalled to the bartender, getting her attention. She flashed him a wide smile, until noticing Hermione at his side. Despite Hermione's putout manner, she decided to err on the side of caution, and switched quickly but clearly disappointedly to a purely professional manner.

"What can I get you?" she asked.

"Another Firewhisky for me, and for the lady…" George trailed off, turning to Hermione.

"Double red currant rum," Hermione ordered.

"Coming right up," said the bartender, cheerily.

As their drinks were being poured, an awkward silence passed between the two of them. Taking a deep breath, George decided to break it.

"I'd really like to talk to you," he said.

"Well, I don't want to talk to you," said Hermione with a frown. "We said everything that needed to be said months ago. You _especially_ did."

"I'm not trying to make you do anything…" started George.

"Damn right, you aren't," she interrupted.

George threw his hands in the air. "Fine! I would just like to say something to you. Like I was saying, I can't make you do anything you don't want to do!"

The loud music couldn't cover the crossness of his shouting at the distance she was standing from him, and he knew his expression showed his frustration rather clearly. As their drinks were placed in front of them, he haphazardly tossed a few Galleons on the bar, and grabbed his Firewhisky.

"If you can stand to talk to me for a few minutes, I'll be upstairs in the lounge, where we won't have to shout to hear each other talk. It's not open just yet, but Lee's given me access. I'll stay up there for the rest of the night, so you can come up whenever you like. And if you don't want to, then… I guess I'll see you when I see you," he finished, turning before he could even register what sort of expression was on Hermione's face. Climbing the stairs to the lounge, he resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder.

Settling on a sofa in the empty lounge that was not open to the public for another week, George sipped his Firewhisky and started to berate himself.

"Well, that was just bloody brilliant," he muttered. "Who could possibly resist that? 'I'll see you when I see you.' Mental. Guess I just talked myself into wasting a night up here, then."

He didn't end up getting much further into his self-loathing rant, as Hermione ascended the stairs only a couple minutes later. Without making eye contact, she crossed the room to sit on the opposite end of George's sofa, placing her drink down on the table in front of them.

George cleared his throat. "Hello," he said, unsteadily. "I wasn't sure you'd come up."

"You've got five minutes," she stated.

"That's very generous of you," he said.

"Are you being sarcastic with me?" she asked, finally looking up at him, but with nothing but aggravation and disdain in her eyes.

"No, really, I wasn't! I swear I was being sincere. No one can ever tell when I'm being serious," he grumbled.

"Can you really blame them?" she asked.

"No," answered George. "I suppose I can't."

He sat quietly for a moment, taking another drink, until Hermione cut in.

"So what's so important that you had to get me away from my friends? This silence is cutting into your five minutes, you know."

"Right, yeah," he said nervously. "I guess I'm not as well-prepared for this as I'd thought."

"That's never been a problem for you before. Just say whatever it is that you want to say so that I can get back downstairs," instructed Hermione, glancing at her watch.

"Are you meeting a bloke or something?" George suddenly asked.

"What?" Hermione seethed.

Immediately backtracking, George held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. "Never mind, I'm sorry I said anything. I know it's not my right to ask anyway, and –"

"You're right, it isn't." Hermione stood up. "So if I'm only up here so you can quiz me about my personal life, I'm just going to go now."

"That's not it at all," he said quickly.

"What, then?" she asked, folding her arms.

"I'm sorry!" George burst out.

Hermione paused, then sat back down on the sofa.

"You're sorry. You're sorry. That's what was so important that you needed to drag me away from my friends. You're sorry."

"Well, yeah… I just…" George sputtered, and tried again. "I'm sorry."

"Fine. You're sorry. May I go?" she asked.

"And I miss you," he added, mentally chastising himself for how pathetic he sounded.

Hermione sighed, and put her head in her hands. "George, that's a very stupid thing to say."

"I know it was," he admitted.

"It was just three months," she continued.

"I know it was," he said again.

"Three months that we both should just forget ever happened."

"You think so?" asked George.

Hermione sighed deeply and leaned back on the sofa. "I've been trying to. It's really for the best."

"Is it, though?" he asked, leaning toward her slightly.

"Yes, it is, George," she said, looking at him seriously. "Like I said, everything that needed to be said was said a few months ago. You don't do serious; I don't do casual. End of conversation."

"But what if I did do serious?" George asked.

"After all that talk about how it wasn't fair of me to ask you to change? Not that I ever did, mind you. No. I don't think so. The best thing that _both_ of us can do is move on, and look for people who are looking for the same things as us," she said. She sighed, and checked her watch again.

"Are you sure you're not meeting somebody?" he asked, instantly regretting it as soon as he said it.

Hermione nearly growled in anger. "Not that it's any business of yours, but no! I'm not! Why do you keep asking me that, anyway?"

"You keep looking at your watch," George said rather pathetically.

"To keep track of the five minutes I've given you! Which is up, by the way. I really would like to return to my friends now, so if you're done –"

"I've also never seen you dressed like that before," he cut in, somewhat sheepishly. "I thought you might be doing so for someone in particular."

"Hardly," Hermione scoffed. "It's just clubwear, I suppose. It's not even mine. The other girls dressed me for this evening. Apparently I don't own anything appropriate for this sort of a setting."

"No?" asked George, amused.

"No. I've never even tried to get into a pair of jeans this tight before. They're on loan from Ginny," she said flatly.

"You should see if she'd let you keep them," he said.

Hermione answered only with a glare.

"I'm serious. You look really good," insisted George.

"Even in Luna's ridiculously sparkly top?" she asked sceptically, pulling at its lower hem in slight aversion.

"You mean, the top that you aren't currently wearing a bra under?" asked George, raising both eyebrows.

Hermione reddened, and folded her arms in front of her chest on pure instinct. "I was told that it didn't work with the outfit," she muttered, looking away.

George grinned, despite the lack of progress. At least she hadn't left yet.

"I know you might be thinking otherwise, but I really didn't know you were going to be here tonight," he said.

"Ginny didn't tip you off, then?" asked Hermione.

"No. She has, however, told me several times what a massive idiot I am for letting you go in the first place," he said.

Hermione chuckled self-satisfactorily. "She's a good friend."

"And I am."

"A good friend? Not to me," she snapped.

"No, I mean I'm a massive idiot," said George.

Hermione groaned. "George, don't start this! It was all a mistake! It never should have happened at all, so would please let me go so that we may continue to forget about this?"

"That's really what you think?" he asked, visibly injured.

"How else could we have ended up at this point?" she asked, frustrated.

"Well, there's always just the possibility that I bollocksed up what could have been a great thing," he offered.

"You can't think that. You can't possibly think that. You gave me a veritable laundry list of reasons why we couldn't carry on as we were. I couldn't have imagined a more thorough, more mortifying breakup!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Like I said, massive idiot," George said, pointing at himself with both thumbs.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry, but that's not a good enough reason for me to even consider putting myself through this again. Now, really, I'm being very rude to my friends by staying up here with you and having this fruitless conversation, so if you don't mind, I'll be on my way," she said, standing up and walking toward the stairs heading back down to the club.

George jumped out of his seat and followed her toward the stairs. After he caught up to her pace and effectively blocked her path, Hermione stopped and frowned. "Move. Before I hex you," she warned.

"What if… what if I had a very good reason, but I just would prefer not to talk about it?" he asked.

"I'd say that as I am not a Legimens, nor do I have any faith in Divination, that unless you want to tell me the reason, you're approaching the wrong girl with this technique," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

"Fine! Fine, I'll talk… Just, sit, please. One minute more. Thirty seconds even," he pleaded.

Hermione made no motion to sit back down, but leaned against the wall. "Talk."

"Do you remember what things were like for me after Fred died?" he asked, speaking quickly to stay within a time limit.

Hermione's demeanour immediately softened. "Of course I do. None of us could forget. It practically destroyed you. We were all really worried about you for at least a year."

"Well," started George again, clearing his throat, "in trying to get better, I came to some realizations. I knew I couldn't stand to go through anything like that again. But it's a part of life. It's unavoidable. One day, it'll be Mum, or Dad, or someone else. And it will hurt more than you could ever possibly imagine. So there was only one thing I could do. A decision I had to make."

"And what's that?" asked Hermione.

"I had to find a way to minimize the pain as much as possible. I care about my family so much. I couldn't add anyone else to that list," he said.

Hermione looked taken aback. "Wait, what?" she asked.

"I couldn't let myself care about anyone new. I can't change how I feel about my family – nor would I want to – but I have to minimize my life's potential for pain. People can die, or they can walk out of your life, and it hurts. So I wasn't going to risk experiencing more pain than I already needed to by caring about more people," he finished.

Hermione looked stunned, but clearly attempted to carry on as she had before. "Hence the whole I-don't-do-serious bit?" she asked.

"Yep."

"Ah," she said simply for a moment, while appearing to be processing this new information. "Well, while I do consider that to be something of a ridiculous decision, you did make it with rather pragmatic reasoning. The results of that decision unquestionably hurt me, but I can't actually fault you for the way you came to it. I appreciate your telling me. I guess…" she sighed, and paused briefly. "I guess it's a little harder for me to be angry with you now, anyway."

"I really should have gotten rid of you sooner," added George.

Hermione flung her hands up. "What do you know? Just like that, the anger's back. You've said your piece, now if you'll please excuse me…"

She shoved her way past him, finally reaching the stairwell this time, but he caught up to her again partway down. Taking her by the shoulders, he pinned her against the wall as gently as possible.

"George, please, leave me be," she begged, tears starting to form in her eyes. "I've been through all this once, and I can't take any more of these games. This isn't fair to me. Please let me go."

"You don't understand. I can't help feeling like that. If I'd gotten rid of you sooner –" said George, looking her directly in the eyes.

"I don't want to hear it," she said, shutting her eyes and turning her head away from his gaze.

"If I had gotten rid of you sooner, you wouldn't have ended up on my list of people I care so much about," he concluded.

Hermione looked back at him, and sniffed away the onset of her tears. "What?"

"You heard me."

"George, you said that we couldn't carry on the way we were," she said.

"We couldn't," he affirmed.

"And that you didn't want to get serious with me."

"I didn't."

Hermione groaned. "So what's all this talk about, then?"

George inched slightly closer to her. "Telling you that I was an idiot, and that I'm sorry? That I'd never dream of hurting you again? Hoping you'll be willing to give me a second chance?"

She blinked hard, her long eyelashes wet with the tears she was working hard to hold back. "What makes this time different from before?"

"The fact that I already know how I feel about you. The fact that I'm looking for something more than a few casual dates, a few casual shags. No leading you on, no letting you think this could be something it isn't," he said.

"And how do I know I can really trust you?" she asked.

George smiled at her. "You're a smart woman. The smartest woman any of us know. You wouldn't have stayed up here with me for so long if you weren't at least interested in hearing what I had to say," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione let out a defeated sigh, and looked away from him. "It's not been easy for me to forget about you, you know," she said.

Unable to hide his grin, George replied smugly, "I imagine not."

She looked at him, both affronted and amused, and slapped his arm lightly. "I mean it! I really don't want to have to go through that again!"

"You won't," he assured her, completely serious in his tone.

She looked down the stairwell, at the throng of dancers below, and bit her lip.

"Hannah, Ginny, and Luna will be wondering where I am," she said.

"Let them wonder," answered George, before capturing her mouth in a searing kiss.

After only a moment of hesitation, she responded warmly, allowing her tongue to move against his, knowing she'd been missing this contact more than she wanted to admit. As his hands moved from her shoulders down toward her hips, she instinctively wrapped her arms around him, and leaned her body into the comfortable warmth of his.

Several minutes of gratifying kissing and caressing finally gave way to a natural break. After an extra peck on the lips, George asked, "Are you still mad that I interrupted your night?"

"Slightly less so," Hermione replied coolly.

George gawped at her. "Just slightly less so?"

Hermione shrugged, grinning. "I still maintain that you've forced me to be awfully rude to my friends on our night out. I suppose I'll have to make it up to all of them."

George ran his hands up her sides, noticing her pleasurable shiver and the gooseflesh that appeared on her arms. "Anything I can do to by ways of apology?" he asked, before finding the skin below her right ear and sucking on it gently.

Hermione made the most frustrated noise she could manage in spite of his attentions. "If you think that this will get me to drop the subject for now…" she broke off as his mouth moved down, finding her clavicle, and she gasped. "Then you'd be right. This time."

She sighed as George's thumb slid just under her top, brushing against her flat stomach.

"You say the lounge isn't open to the public yet?" she asked breathily.

George moved his mouth away from her throat, and shook his head. "Not for another week," he answered.

"Well, I've already abandoned my friends for most of our night… I suppose a bit longer wouldn't hurt," she said, looking up in the direction of the lounge. "But no more intruding on future nights out, okay? If you're going to be my boyfriend, you'll still have to share me with my girlfriends."

George took her hand and allowed her to lead them back up the stairs to the lounge, where they would end up spending the rest of the night getting reacquainted with each other.

"As long as you're coming back to me, I'll do anything you want," he said.

"Anything?" asked Hermione. "Let's put that to the test, shall we?"

George grinned at her cheekiness, and knew that her earlier worries had vanished, and would never have reason to return. He was never going to be such a massive idiot ever again.


End file.
